friends

October 07, 2008

Yesterday I was at the pool at my senior splash class , to which I have only recently returned. An old woman came up to me and asked my name. I told her, and asked what her name was, she said, “Frieda”. That is a name that thirty years ago I would have found harsh, but today in the pool with her accent, it sounded gentle and fresh. I then asked her what her accent was. Although “Frieda” should have been a clue, she answered “German, East German.“ She lived very close to what was the Berlin Wall. We spoke for the next 30 minutes and she told me about her life. I asked her how she happen to come to the United States.

After the war two sisters, friends of her mother’s living here in Washington sought out who was alive and who was dead from their old village. Later these same women wrote back to their living friend in what had now become the Russian section of Germany, saying they could immigrate one family. Unlike today, when one immigrated, one had to have a sponsor. The sponsor was responsible for the immigrant for a period of time, which included their behavior, housing, and job guarantee. . They offered this invitation to those who they found living from their village.

Freida’s husband who had been in the American concentration camp, when he found that they would be living in the Russian sector, he said let’s go to America. No one else was taking the offer and he said, “Let us take it.” She said “no, no, no,” but he said , “we will sign up and it will take a long time to process, and then we can decide.” In three years their papers came. By this time the Russian sector was really poor. She was willing to come. They came here to the Skagit Valley to a dairy farm. He who had never seen a cow up close, became a milker. She was a seamstress. He later found work in his own profession.

She told me that just as the war ended and there were a few days of confusion before the borders were set, she was able to walk from her town which was in the Russian Zone to her In-law’s home which was in the new American section. She said that she was very frightened. She said that the first words that were spoken to her were, “Hello, Baby”. There yesterday in the pool she covered her eyes, and was still laughing.

Frieda turns 89 on October 16. I told her my birthday was on the 14th. She said. “We are both Libras, we are good people”.

August 04, 2008

I have had the privilege in the last week to be a part of two fiftieth wedding anniversaries. One couple I knew in grade school and the other couple is a part of both my neighborhood and my church. One couple took the small cruise approach as they were having 70th birthdays parties also this year, and the other couple had a huge and fancy, very fine, party which was engineered by children. They had always lived in one general area, but moved a lot, so they had many friends. The party must have topped the original wedding in grandeur as in earlier years most wedding receptions were back yard affairs. These are still my preference. But then in earlier times, the reception was much shorter as sex was a priority. And in those days everyone stayed to see the bride and groom leave for their honeymoon.

This week a theme has been running through my mind about the day that I got married and how I had no concept of how long I would be married. I had no grandparents around to judge age, and I could not fathom 50 years. I think that in real terms I thought I would live to see my children married. I have been to one other 50th wedding anniversary party, and I thought the couple old. And soon the man did go round the bend. But I am hear to tell and show you that people do make it to 50. And I am thinking they look pretty good. One picture includes bridesmaids, and one picture includes daughters. So you give it a shot. Try for 50. I have two to go.
The above are my good friends Jo and George Estill.

August 11, 2007

Rich (below) is planning his high school class’s fifty-fifth reunion. There are so few graduates left that four classes have been invited, it costs $5.00, and starts at 2:00 so everyone can get home before dark.

August 10, 2007

When we were in Willow Creek, Meredith took her two sons to visit friends. George did not want to leave. The only way that Meredith could get him to leave was to tell him he was going to meet a cowboy. George thought that was pretty good, so he left . Our friend Rich, the cattle rancher had arrived, but wouldn’t you know it, wearing a baseball cap. Rich is a working cowboy at 72. As his father helped him when his father retired, Rich works with his son now that he is retired, and takes LOTS of vacations. His weathered face only enhance his good looks, but he can still get up in the middle of the night to help a cow, although now that is not his preference.